


So kinky

by Allegory



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, basically exams are making keith horny, halloweeb. is it october yet, pre-kerberos, shiro is the bottom, this is canon i know i asked dreamworks hush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 03:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12003627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allegory/pseuds/Allegory
Summary: "Can we do it?""What? No. No, not now. Not here. Are you crazy?""Of course not here. Like, my room.""Your mess of a dungeon? Really? You'd have me moan into cup noodles while we're doing it?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im planning to write all my prekerberos sheith hcs in this!! prekerberos sheith is where it's at guys,,,i can't stop myself it's the divinest thing ever...  
> i wrote this during my morning lecture. suffice to say i didn't learn jack...

As the inevitable finals draw near, books and curry-stained cup noodles continue to pile in Keith's room. When his friends come to visit for a de-stress session, they swing open the door to send various takeaway containers flying. They find him lying in a pool of murky red the night before the astrology exam, adorned with bits of stir-fried pork and ginger. He looks dead enough to have been part of the spilled dish.

So during a catch-up session with officer/ replacement lecturer Takashi Shirogane, he is nudged awake by his self-proclaimed rival Lance. Keith rubs his eyes, the soothing, rugged voice of the officer filling his ears like they'd woken up side-by-side, not with him tucked away in the back seat of the amphitheater-sized hall. Keith sits up, not sure how long he'd been asleep except that he hasn't felt so rested in ages. The impending anxiety of missing revision material nags at the back of his mind- he needs to pass this time, the Garrison isn't going to let him off because of his flying. He stretches his back, arms sweeping through the air.

“You have a question, Keith?”

Keith freezes. A couple of students in the front turn around to stare at him. Distantly, Keith recognizes the sound of Lance snickering next to him. The afterglow of his nap dissipates and all that's left is the thought of his math paper 3 in five hours from now, the mortification of sleeping through the officer's lecture _when he and Lance had requested this._

Keith scans the blackboard, but his eyes are still blurry and he can barely make sense of any equations. On the dias, Officer Shirogane looks at him in earnest consideration, his arms held behind him, white sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. It's cleaner than anything Keith could ever think of owning.

“Yeah,” Keith blurts, and Lance is laughing so hard that his entire body is shaking now. Officer Shirogane steps towards him, tilting his head to brush away his tuff of bangs. He appears ready to answer any question Keith may have with step-by-step instructions and a full proof methodology.

“Uh, for question 4 just now,” Keith stutters, one hand on the scribbles Lance had made on a piece of scrap paper. “About the trajectory of the shuttle...”

When Keith falls silent, Shiro nods. “Yes?”

Lance leans forward . “What my buddy  _really_ wants to know, Sir, is the trajectory from his seat right here to your heart.”

There's a resounding cheer from everyone in the hall. Keith's entire face burns red up to the tips of his ears. He swears he can feel the heat all the way to his toes and he's so damn close to cuffing Lance on the side of his head, effectively knocking him dead. Some people are cat-calling now. Keith knows it's a bad idea but it seems like his life is full of bad ideas anyway, Lance being one of the worst, so he spares a glance at Shiro.

“Well,” Shiro says, his composure unwavering. Keith gets this chilling image of a girl walking to up Shiro, love written out in a perfume-scented parchment only to have Shiro crush it in his hands with a smile on his face. “First, we would have to think about the angle through which his heart would spring from. If you remember from question 4, we calculated the angle to be 32 degrees. Now...”

Shiro steps to the blackboard. He draws an unnervingly realistic diagram with the side-view of a ribcage (no one listens to biological physics and Keith is sure that Shiro is the only officer who knows the musculoskeletal structure by heart. This makes his dick twitch for some reason). Then he draws a mound within the ribcage (Keith almost came- he would have if Shiro had sketched blood vessels on too). Shiro walks the remedial class through the pathway from Keith's seat in the hall to his position in front of the backboard, tying it in with the steps from question 4 to make sure it's drilled in their heads. If nothing else, Keith'll remember this one thing.

When the lecture is over Lance runs the hell away from Keith before he can do anything. Keith would sprint towards him and tear his neck out with his teeth, but Shiro is watching, and somehow Keith gets that he should stay behind. The rest of the students trickle out until it's only the two of them gazing at each other across the hall.

Shiro powers off the projector and packs up his stuff in his laptop bag. He makes his way across the hall to Keith until they're standing in front of each other. Shiro becomes so much more imposing when the tight folds across his chest are right in Keith's face, but when Shiro brushes his cheek with the back of his hand- cold, Keith realizes, it must be without his usual coat and because of the air-conditioning right above him- it's a soft, careful touch.

“You're looking kind of pale,” Shiro whispers.

“I'm fine. And sorry about that ass,” Keith says _ass_ in the tone he does when he's on top of Shiro, sharing sweat and slick and a litany of sweet nothings. The lazy arousal in his crotch stirs a little but it dies away, subdued by sentiment. “I hope you don't get into trouble for it.”

“Your batch are good kids,” Shiro offers, if only to reassure himself. He runs his fingers across Keith's eyelashes and Keith leans into the touch like a tame kitten. It's a facet to him that he only shares in these private moments with Shiro, when they're isolated from the rest of the world. "You should get more rest. Can't have you sleeping in the exam."

"Mmm," Keith hums, but he's not really listening. He steps back, pulls his jacket off and drapes it over Shiro's shoulders.

"Keith, it's cold. You should-" Keith tugs the jacket sleeves and yanks Shiro towards him. They're nose-to-nose for a second.

"Can we do it?"

"What? No. No, not now. Not here. Are you crazy?"

"Of course not  _here._ Like, my room."

"Your mess of a dungeon? Really? You'd have me moan into cup noodles while we're doing it?"

Keith laughs. "Not unless you want to. I didn't know you were that brand of kinky."

"Oh god, Keith. You're coming with me- no more studying. Come on."

Shiro practically hauls Keith into a fireman carry. He sets him down just before venturing out the hall, when they're no longer lovers but officer and cadet walking side-by-side, sharing a companionable silence. Shiro unlocks the door to his dorm room and Keith practically falls flat on his face, the exhaustion finally wringing him dry. Shiro drops his laptop bag at the door and helps Keith into his bed. He tucks him in and turns the room heater on, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt while brewing a cup of coffee. Cadets trickle in and out of buildings outside, the bustle of another day passing.

 _"So kinky,"_ Keith mumbles in his sleep. Shiro almost spits out his mouthful of coffee, but he's smiling all the while.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told ya guys there'd be more! Written during a Developmental Milestones lecture...I'll look back at this fic when I drop out lolz

Keith has his head in the toilet bowl when the exam scores are released. It's not the coolest thing to admit, but the thought of being kicked out the Garrison and losing the only life purpose he's ever known- flying planes- is enough to get him in this state of unrest. He recalls days out in his desert home, standing with his toes tucked between a gap in the wooden planks just behind the door, waiting for the father who never came home. The sickness of the summer heat weighing him down, fever dreams between fragments of sleep.

It's Hunk who comes in to hold his hair up in a ponytail, fanning the back of his neck with his result slip. The only thing Keith knows about Hunk at this point is that he'd graduated on top of the engineering course three years in a row, and that he's Lance's best friend (God forbid how anyone could be Lance's best friend). Hunk's nose is wrinkled as his hypersensitive olfactory senses take in the malignant odor of Keith's dorm- actually an improvement since the exams ended, not that Hunk can appreciate.

“Why're you here?” Keith manages to croak out. Hunk hands him a glass of murky water that he holds between two fingers- it's covered in a film of soot, dust, or both. Keith takes a few sips, sighing as his bout of nausea peters off. Then he sees the paper printed with the letters _Mr. Keith Kogane_ and his heart seizes once again.

“Lance asked me to hand this to you.”

Keith has this intricate internal monologue in his head. It goes something like this:

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck_

_Fuck?_

_Fuck, fuck!_

He yanks the paper out of Hunk's hand, swallows some more vomit and decides that he's got to bite the bullet. In one excessive swish, he unfurls the paper and his eyes search for the capital letters next to his grades. PASS. They're all passes down the column.

Keith doesn't jump in joy. He flops back on the grimy floor, piss-stained at places, and sees his future flying fighter planes, shooting enemies, living off the high of his instincts. Putting his life on the line because he _knows_ he can accomplish what he sets out to- at least for now, things are in place.

The rest of the day is a blur of beer and howling. For once he and Lance occupy the same room without bickering- in fact, Keith gets so high that he ends up tap-dancing to country music with Lance in his arms. Lance is high enough that he goes along without noticing that they're being filmed for blackmailing purposes by the rest of their class.

Then Shiro enters the party shack and the whole place freezes. It's an unspoken rule in the Garrison that everyone knows about the existence of the party shack, but don't at the same time: cadets who graduate into officers don't come over. It's a cadet-exclusive area respected by the faculty to be the one place where they can let loose. Order can't be maintained without a disorder.

“Sorry,” Shiro whispers, but his voice cuts through the whole shack. There's the distant sound of a ping pong ball bouncing off the floor. “Is Keith here?”

The sea of party-goers part until Keith is directly in Shiro's path. Shiro strides in awkwardly, praying, _don't let him be drunk, don't let him be drunk,_ even though it's obvious from Keith's burning red face that he's long gone, and the worst happens exactly as he imagines: Keith drapes himself over him, burying his face into Shiro's neck.

“I passed,” Keith mumbles.

Shiro thinks quick. He says, loud enough that the whole room can hear, “Whoa! Careful there, cadet," and he staggers back for added effect. Then he throws Keith over his back and says to those looking, “He has, uh, a liver problem. I'll have to stop him before he drinks to his deathbed.”

This is how the whole class, and the classes after them, come to know Keith Kogane as Liver Keith. Lance calls him this for a solid five months after. But for now Shiro brings Keith back to Keith's dorm- it's closer than his own- and his own nose wrinkles at the rancid stink. Keith writhes out of Shiro's grasp. It shocks Shiro when Keith suddenly regains all his sobriety and strength and shoves Shiro against the door, a smirk on his face. He chuckles, his breath smelling of straight up vodka. Then he kisses Shiro on the lips.

“I did it!”

Keith yanks Shiro around his room- Shiro forgets how strong he is with his lithe build sometimes- and he does this small dance that makes Shiro's heart skip a few beats. But then Keith trips over a stack of books. Shiro reaches out to catch him on instinct. Then he realizes that Keith had faked it, and they fall over each other on his bed.

“Something doesn't look right about this,” Keith laughs under Shiro's gaze. He wraps his legs around Shiro's waist and flips them over like Shiro had taught him in P.E.

“You listened to this much, at least."

Keith isn't laughing. He leans in close and presses his forehead on Shiro's own. “Do I get my reward now?”

Shiro's arm snakes around the small of Keith's back. He pulls Keith in and nips the shell of his ear. “Yeah. You do.”

Shiro's always good when they go at it. He's soft and pliant under Keith's touch and he reacts so sweetly. Keith remembers his breathless moans most, how they escape his throat in these glimpses of mutual vulnerability. But it's the aftermath that Keith looks forward to. When the passion ebbs and it's just the two of them lying side-by-side, sharing each others breath and space. Shiro doesn't look like an officer- just his friend and mentor, another man who by circumstance fell from the stars to save his life, and here they are now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: warmwintersun.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea what i was doing with this. i just want it to be october guys. can it please be october. can we have halloween yet. it's not even celebrated in my country but the internet goes WILD abt it. give me october.

It's Halloween at the Garrison, and Shiro doesn't get the joke.

See, it's usually the other way around. A few months after they finally talked about dating- even though they had been dating long before, and it was only a matter of trifle words- Shiro had surprised Keith on his (assigned?) birthday, standing outside his door with a bunch of people Keith barely knew who'd been drawn by the sheer power of Shiro's charisma. The gesture was anything but heartwarming for Keith, who saw the gathering of those unknown faces in a disconcerting light. But he'd later reflect upon it as the birthday that didn't pass like any other day. A quirk to the monotony as a loner. So Keith figures it'll be nice if he does something in return.

Somehow they're standing neck-and-neck, Keith with a blade at his throat. He's donned a terribly garish red costume (intended to resemble the Babadook. Lance had sent him an eloquent text: _ur a furry_ ). At the other end of the blade Shiro's face is pallid as sheets wrapped around a corpse.

It doesn't take long to click. Shiro withdraws his weapon, the switchblade Keith had given him as a keepsake before he was deployed a while back. Shiro steps back, offering an apologetic smile that doesn't quite look right. "Ah, Keith, I-"

Keith doesn't interrupt him but Shiro's already exhausted his lexicon. Behind them Hunk, dressed in a flamboyant cape, black mask and plastic rapier (the real Zorro) and Lance (the mummy. Enough sharp bones and taut skin that he might actually have crawled out of an Egyptian tomb) glance at each other uncertainly. They shift from foot-to-foot, gnawing their lips. Lance, bearing the experience of babysitting a family so extended that the McCain may collectively populate a small town, is the first to recover.

"This is a little unexpected. Seems like Shiro likes tricks more than treats, huh Hunk?"

Hunk laughs wryly, an uncomfortable edge creeping into his voice. "Yeah, sure does..."

Keith is at a loss for everything. There's the quiet billowing of willow branches in the fall breeze, leaves picking up in the artificial gardens of the Garrison. It'd been built to remind the cadets that a real world exists far out from these deserts, and it's a known fact that Officer Shirogane frequents these parts.

Shiro cuts his losses. "I'll, um, go. Sorry. Happy...Halloween."

It feels like it's neither Halloween nor happy at this point. Even with bat garlands hanging among the trees, emitting a soft orange glow, the spirit's not in place. Or maybe it's been tilted askew. Keith feels foolish in the costume the way he had when Lance suggested it, but Lance is Good At Socialising and Keith is the Garrison's People-Stub. This could've been a good idea, in another time and another place.

Keith leaves without another word. He sees the shadow in Shiro's eyes flickering in his mind, a look he's never really recognized on him. There are few people around to witness him in his ridiculous costume, most cadets having gone on the annual trip to some resort miles away. Shiro normally goes for the sake of his friends. Not this year.

Keith kicks the costume off and lies in bed all day. He gets up at night, dragging himself to the officer dorms with a handful of toffee.

"Hey."

Shiro's just taken a bath. His bangs are matted to his forehead and he embodies the full visage of a big, shaggy dog, except with the breath of a thousand pounds of ground espresso. Keith knows about his no-access Coffee Room. Keith unfurls his fist to reveal the sweets.

Shiro takes one. He occupies the whole doorway, broad shoulders pressed against the door frame as he unwraps the foil. Often when Keith comes to visit, Shiro unlocks the door and stands aside immediately and Keith saunters in without much thought.This is a situation that Keith is unfamiliar with.

They don’t talk about it because there are two sides to Shiro, the one that Keith knows to be his friend and mentor and the other that’s always lurking underneath. Nights when Keith stirs to the sound of Shiro’s hitched breaths, the small hints among strange people, the sense that there are eyes pinned to his back when he and Shiro head to town. His Shiro for sure. But someone else too.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Shiro asks it like a question, but it’s not. Keith nods anyway. Shiro shuts the door and Keith is left with this nagging anxiety, wondering if he’s ever known the man behind the door. The incident passes. Shiro continues to surprise Keith on special holidays but Keith never tries again. The gap between them is easy to forget, but it's one that's ever present.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: warmwintersun.tumblr.com (talk to me!!!! ahhhh)  
> Art Tumblr: enzelx.tumblr.com  
> Instagram: instagram.com/enzelx  
> Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCB-8PQXJBOKqDqrWA1pzDcQ?view_as=subscriber (listen to me stumble over my words like the giant loser I am, poorly edited videos, listen for 20s for pure comedic value im trying to improve sobs. omg. why do i write. im so bad at words frick)


End file.
